


Darkness and Light

by TheFutureUnseen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Fuck TROS, POV Alternating, Redeemed Ben Solo, canon is garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:02:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFutureUnseen/pseuds/TheFutureUnseen
Summary: What if Rey does not sense Ben's presence until it is too late? What if she is forced to make the ultimate sacrifice?“Kill me and fulfill your destiny,” the Emperor’s warped voice calls to her. “Kill me and take up the mantle of the Sith.”“I am no Sith,” Rey says, even as panic swells in her belly, even as hope dies in her throat. The fate of the galaxies rests in her trembling hands. No one is coming. She is alone.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 109





	Darkness and Light

**Author's Note:**

> It took me all of the twenty-minute ride home to come up with a better ending than that garbage. JJ really made the sole purpose of their force bond two cheap minutes of Palpatine not being attached to some tubes… Iconic. Anyways, this is my alternate ending. Hope you enjoy it.

The sky above her flares to life. Electricity crackles across Rey’s skin, raising the hair on her arms. The metallic taste of singed air bites at her lungs. She cannot breathe. Her eyes are fixed upon the gaping hole in the temple’s ceiling. Lighting arcs through the skylight, bifurcating infinitely to strike at the mismatched fleet, the last of the Resistance. 

“Kill me and fulfill your destiny,” the Emperor’s warped voice calls to her. “Kill me and take up the mantle of the Sith.” Her wide eyes watch countless speeders fall through the crackling sky. “ _Kill me._ ”

Her voice shakes. “No.” 

“Then watch your friends burn, watch them die knowing you had the power to stop it, to _save_ them. That you had a choice and you forsake them”

“Your words are poison. You are poison,” Rey grits out, dragging her eyes away from the bright sky. She shakes her head, shoulders set and rigid to keep the tremors from subsuming her body. “I am no Sith,” she says, even as panic swells in her belly, even as hope dies in her throat. The fate of the galaxies rests in her trembling hands. No one is coming. She is alone. 

Ben looks up from the stony ground. He can sense Rey’s panic, her fear. It ripples down their bond. His breath catches and his feet push against the ground beneath him, legs straining as he sprints towards the Sith Temple. He can see Rey, see her standing before Palpatine, see the despair on her face, the loneliness. His chest hurts, tightens, at the thought of her facing the Emporer alone. His legs work harder, his gut clenching. He cannot lose her. 

Air whistles around Ben as he launches himself onto the great chain which leads down into that crackling abyss. The skin of his fingers chafes, shreds when he begins to slide down, unwilling to take the time to climb. He is almost there, almost with her...still she has not sensed him. He tries to reach out for her, but her panic is like a firm wall, a boundary he cannot cross. 

Ben sprints as soon as his feet hit the ground. Desperation coating his tongue. Sweat on his brow, He is so close. 

“Rey—”

His voice pinches, dies in his throat as shadowed figures emerge from the flickering darkness. He is surrounded by the Knights of Ren. 

The Emperor lets out a harsh cackle, a choked laugh. “Foolish child, you have always been ruled by your feelings. You are more Sith than you know.” 

Acid burns in Rey’s throat. She feels sick. Torn. Helpless. 

“Kill me and become the Sith you were born to be, become the vessel for the Darkside. Then the Final Order fleet will be yours to command. You can save your friends. Now, _kill me!_ ”

Rey is lost, adrift in an ocean of fear. Her eyes lock with the glazed orbs of her grandfather. Time is running out. The Resistance hurtles through the sky above her. Innocent people. All counting on her. It’s too much. Rey cannot breathe, cannot feel the force at her fingertips. She can only feel the icy fingers of panic spearing her chest. It is as if she has been cut off, as if the Jedi have abandoned her, as if she is truly, utterly alone. 

Ben grunts. His face sears, a blow from the blunt end of the knight’s staff. He crashes into the stone wall and then throws himself from it using the momentum of impact to tear the weapon from his old ally’s grasp. He should kill the knight. He doesn’t have time for hesitation. Still, he finds himself unable to make the first move. Now that he is not outnumbered, this feels different. This is no longer self-defense. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Ben says, voice strained and stiff. His fingers tighten around the staff as the knight squares off, lifting a sword from one of the fallen. Four bodies lay dead at Ben’s feet, four people he had once called friends. “You don’t have to do this,” he entreats, one last time. 

“Traitor!” the distorted voice cracks from behind the knight’s mask. The last Knight of Ren lunges forward. 

A choaked sob breaks Rey open, cuts her to the bone. She knows what she must do to save everyone. For those she loves, she will make the ultimate sacrifice. There is no choice, no other way, no matter how desperately she wishes it. Luke and Leia’s lightsabers ignite in her hands, illuminating the triumph in Palpatine’s eyes. The column of lightning ceases; the crackling energy sinks back into the Emperor’s fingers. The air around her falls still; Time holds its mighty breath. 

An almost inhuman sound leaves her lips, an animal shout that shatters the taut stillness. Rey lunges out, arms crossed one over the other, and then drags the blue and green sabers apart. Cruel victory is etched onto the Emporer’s face. His lips are twisted into a grotesque smile when his severed head topples to the ground. It rolls from the spiked throne, rolls to her feet. His body collapses to the cold floor. It is done. Then… 

Rey’s whole world shakes. 

She gasps as pain sears through her bones.

Ben knows something has gone terribly wrong. He can feel it, feel the strain across their bond, feel how Rey’s signature begins to distort, warp, pull away from him. He can hear her screaming in his head. Her shrieks do not pierce the surrounding silence, but they shred his consciousness as if she stands only feet from him. It breaks him as he thought he could never again be broken. And that is when the chanting starts. A deep insidious pulse which vibrates the air. 

Ben drags the staff from the fallen body of the last Knight of Ren and steps over the corpse. His footsteps falter as he stumbles into a sprint, Rey’s silent screams echoing in his head. 

When he arrives in the throne room, he finds Rey upright. _Alive_ . He exhales his relief, but it is shortlived. The corrosive _wrongness_ coating their bond has not dissipated. In fact, it has grown stronger, tighter over what has become precious to him. Like a fist tightening to crush vital bone. 

“Rey?”

She faces the Sith throne, her back to him. Both lightsabers ignited but limp at her side. As Ben watches, Rey’s lefthand twitches. The legacy lightsaber falls and gutters out. Hair raises on the back of Ben’s neck. 

His periphery shifts and a chill drags down his spine as the Sith acolytes circle closer. The chanting changes, swells around him, becoming chaotic, reaching some horrible crescendo. 

“Rey...” Ben tries to remain calm, but he can hear the panic seeping into his tone. 

Her back shudders. Whether from pain or from silent, convulsive sobs, he cannot tell. Ben moves forward, reaching out as energy crackles around her. A cage of lightning forms, grows, forces him back, and then vanishes, sinking into Rey’s skin. He races forward. 

“Rey—”

He freezes midstep, brown eyes fixed on the crackling saber at her side. His mother’s saber. A loud rending splits the air. Percussive. An echo. A sound he has heard only once before. The loud crack of a kyber crystal. Pale green bleeds into crimson and Ben stumbles back, horror suffusing him. 

Rey turns. Ben can finally see her face, that familiar, haunting face. Yet, for the first time since he met her one year ago on Takadona, Ben wishes he that couldn’t. Her wane features are illuminated by the crimson glow of her corrupted saber. Her once hazel eyes now appear almost florescent, electric, sizzling with too much energy for one body to contain. Her face—the one he has dreamed of for years—is fractured, strained. Ben can still hear her voice screaming in her head. 

He calls her name for the fourth time, but her eyes are stretched wide, her mouth stretched open though no sound leaves her. She looks through him. Her free hand curls into a claw and then twists viciously at her side. 

Ben’s breath stalls. He expects to feel pain, to feel his bones crack beneath the power of the force. Instead, the sky implodes. Flames dance through the stars as the Final Order fleet shreds apart. The shrill scream of rending metal fills the air. It distracts him, momentarily, and awe sweeps through him at the raw strength of her power. Unlike anything he has ever seen, ever felt. Power fit for a deity. That darkness sings to him, seduces him, he feels himself reaching for it, reaching for her. But when he looks back, the awe vanishes; it shrivels in his gut, turning to acid. 

Any trace of the familiar, any trace of _Rey_ has faded from her expression. Her face is now cold and impassive. Her glowing eyes, vacant and hollow. It is as if with that final act, she has torn herself apart. The screaming in Ben’s head has stopped. The bond between them has grown silent. His stomach sinks, chest aching. Ben shakes his head, fingers spasming, reaching for her. This cannot be how their story ends. It cannot. 

“Rey, look at me.” He steps forward, arms out. The staff in his hand clatters to the stone floor. “Look at me.”

Her flat eyes bore into him. His heart clenches. It is like staring at a corpse. All the things which made her Rey—that fierce compassion, that wry wit and challenging fire—all gone. Replaced by a cold simmering rage. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Her voice is mocking, lazy. She is toying with him. Rey steps back towards the spiked throne of the Sith, a sly smile pulling at her lips. She raises her hand. “Join me, Ren. Join me and we can rule not only this world but _every_ world. Join me and I will give you the ultimate power you have always craved.” 

“I thought you wanted—I thought you wanted Ben…” 

Rey snorts, “Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. I care not.” His chest feels hot as if someone has shoved a hot poker through it. The way he felt when Rey cut him down on the drowned Death Star. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you want this? Don’t you want _me_?”

“Not like this.” His voice is but a whisper. 

She lets out a cruel, barking laugh. “How fickle men are. One day, this is your greatest desire and the next you are dissatisfied—”

“I was wrong,” Ben says, adamant. He takes another cautious step forward. 

“Of course, you were. You’re weak. Torn between Darkness and Light. Never willing to give yourself fully.” 

He shakes his head, “There is Darkness and Light in all of us. It is what you choose that makes you strong. _You_ taught me that.” 

“You’re a fool,” Rey spits. “Just like _she_ was.” 

Ben freezes as her words wash over him. His lip trembles, head shaking slowly. It is not Rey who stands before him. She… she is gone. 

No, _no—_ he will not give up hope. 

She will have to kill him first. 

That cold smile returns. She has read his mind through the frayed link which still hums, a fragile tether between them. “With pleasure,” she hisses. 

Crimson arcs overhead. It is more instinct than conscious thought which calls Ben to reach out. The cold metal of the legacy lightsaber bites into his skin. Electric blue flares to life as Ben blocks Rey’s killing blow. 

“I don’t want to fight you!”

She snarls. Her foot collides with his chest, sending Ben stumbling back towards the flickering precipice. Rey stalks him, blade spinning in her fingers. Quick as an ader, she strikes again and it is all Ben can to do perry her percussive blows. Before they reach the chasm, Ben grunts, digging his feet in. Crimson crackles against blue as he stands his ground. She pushes into him, their faces mere inches apart. 

“You’re not alone,” he murmurs. 

Something flickers in her flat gaze. He could have sworn he saw a shift...but it dies just as quickly. Rey twists and drags her saber against his arm. 

Ben inhales sharply, pulling away just in time to keep her from severing his left arm. A singed line crosses his upper bicep. He blocks her again and falls back towards the dark throne as she begins to circle him. He doesn’t go far. Just far enough for her rabid swings to miss his body. 

“You’re not alone,” he repeats. This time his voice is clear, unfaltering. “There are people who love you. A family who loves you. The resistance. Your friends. _Me._ Rey…you’re not alone. I can help you.” 

She shouts her rage at him. The speed of her attacks increases, her movements become even more aggressive, tinged with desperation. Ben’s strength begins to falter. She is stronger than he remembers, stronger than should be possible; her stamina does not falter even as the dark energy corrupts her from the inside out, as it corrodes the bond between them. Their sabers clash, locking once more.

“Please, Rey,” his voice breaks. “Please, let me help—”

She screams, eyes going wild. “Shut up!” 

Pain sears him and his whole world flashes white. Ben flies through the air and lands in a crumpled heap. He can barely breathe. His chest is on fire. His skin seems to vibrate. Tears sting his dark eyes. He blinks, gasping. 

Lightning crackles from Rey’s fingertips. Her face is no longer hollow. It is haunted, filled with a thousand generations of hate. Ben swallows. He tries to stand, but his muscles spasm and give out. His knees crack against the hard stone floor of the temple. Rey prowls closer. He feels the bond between them flicker then gutter out.

This is the end. Ben knows it, feels it in his bones. His throat is bruised, raw, tight. Tears squeeze from his eyes as he looks up at her. One last time. 

“I would have offered you my hand,” he says softly, meeting her glowing gaze. “Ben’s hand.” 

Rey does not hear him. She raises his mother’s corrupted saber, face like stone. It crackles overhead, singeing the air between them. Ben exhales. He smiles up at her, a watery resigned thing. Acceptance settles over him like a warm ocean wave. He speaks his truth into the air between them. 

“Since the first moment I saw you, the first dream, you are all I have ever wanted. Just you, Rey. Just for you to be with me.”

Her strike falters, hangs in the air. She stares at him, hazel eyes clearing for just a moment. “What did you say?” 

“I wanted—I _want_ you to be with me.” 

She inhales a shaky breath and her eyelids flutter shut. “Be with me,” she murmurs. The frayed link between them, the one he felt fade away, flickers to life; it pulses with energy. Ben gasps. A tender hope sending warmth dancing across his chest. _Be with me_. Rey repeats the phrase. Her voice is softer now, almost reverent. If he could not see her lips moving, Ben would believe she only spoke it to the confines of his own mind. 

He stares in awe as the crimson blade over his head extinguishes, as the hilt clatters to the floor, as _Rey_ floods his senses, reaching for him through the bond. He gasps, closes his eyes, and opens himself to her. Any barriers left standing between them dissolve like fine grains of sand. Ben feels their minds meld, feels the frenetic energy which was coursing through her smooth out into a placid sea between them. It was too much for one body, but not for a dyad, not for one soul held in two bodies. 

Her small hands slide into Ben’s. They are cool to the touch, growing warmer with each passing second. When Ben opens his eyes, he sees her. Rey. The one he remembers. The one from his dreams. The woman he loves. Their knees are knocked together. their hands intertwined. The energy of a thousand generations of both Sith and Jedi flowing between them. The Force is finally balanced, finally _whole._

Rey slips back into her body like waking from a dream. As if she could only watch the nightmare from above. It would have been jarring, this awakening, without a tether, without the two large hands encompassing her own and the solid warmth of him through their bond. 

Her eyes crack open to find him staring at her. Awe and wonder and…love written upon his softened features. 

“Ben,” she whispers, reaching for him. Her knuckles graze his cheek. She traces the smile on his face. The one mirroring her own. “You came back.”

“Always,” his voice is deep and scratchy, filled with emotion. “I’ll always come back for you, sweetheart.” 

It is instinct more than conscious thought which drags her forward. A feeling. A force. Her lips crash into his. At once starved and sweet, hungry and savoring. She smiles into him. _Ben._ He tastes like smoke and electricity, like darkness and light, like balance. Like home. 

Later when she looks back at this moment, when she and Ben tell their children about the force, about its capacity for good and evil, a capacity which lives in all things, Rey will be filled with a tender sense of peace and a glowing purpose. She will be filled with certainty, something she never felt until she had Ben Solo wrapped in her arms. Rey will remember this moment, in the darkness of a Sith hall bathed in impenetrable light, as the first moment she truly felt like she belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly thought no one could top the cluster fuck that was the Game of Thrones finale, but TROS came pretty darn close. I hope you reylo babies are taking care of yourselves <3 much love.


End file.
